After warming himself for a few minutes, Finch motioned to the barkeep for some food. He didn't care what it was, as long as it was hot. He also ordered a bowl for Eve, not wanting his new charge to go hungry. Finch refused to look in Eve's direction, too embarrassed by his adverse reaction to the rain to say anything just yet. The food couldn't come fast enough, and when it was finally brought over, he wrapped his hands around the hot metal bowl and cradled it close to his chest. It was burning him a bit, but he didn't want to let go of it.

He had only taken one bite when the door to the place swung open, letting in a burst of cold air that nearly had Finch leaping into the fireplace. He shuddered and hunched over his bowl, glancing back to see the newcomer. It was the young slave girl from the day before, threadbare socks wet and clinging to her little feet. She had a small box in her hands that she carried to the barkeep, and he handed over a few bottles of whiskey in exchange. As she gathered the alcohol and turned to leave, the girl noticed Finch watching her and her face brightened.

The girl padded over and hesitated a moment before quietly murmuring, "Hello, sir. Thank you for yesterday." She motioned to the socks on her feet, as if Finch might have forgotten. Standing there before him, dripping wet and shivering from the cold rain, she could have been anywhere between ten to fifteen. She looked wretched and miserable, but there was still a glimmer of happiness that someone had spared her half a thought.

"You don't have to thank me, kiddo. Just watch where you're walking, because those socks won't hold up well on sharp stones," Finch replied with a shrug. The girl nodded as if he were imparting some great wisdom, then made to turn and leave. "Wait. Set those bottles down a second." She did and turned back to give him a perplexed look. Finch scraped up a large spoonful of the hot stew in his bowl and held it out to her. He had a warm fire to sit by, and she was about to go back into the cold. With wide eyes, she took the spoon in her trembling fingers and took the bite. She looked like she was about to cry. Finch took back the spoon, scraped up some more of the stew, and gave it to her again. He did this two more times, then dropped the spoon into his half-empty bowl and said, "Go on now, before your master gets grouchy about waiting."

Finch turned away from her, and he felt rather than saw her hesitate before jumping forward to hug him. He gasped at the cold but forced himself to reach up and pat her head. "Go on, you little monkey. Get moving," he chattered, and she grabbed her bottles and rushed out of the tavern, leaving Finch feeling just a bit better about the day.

Kazimir tightened the laces on his boots, steadily climbing the side of his legs all the way up past his knees. He was always dressed well, but today he'd clothed himself in his best. Close-fitting silk trousers that tucked into his tall dark boots, the silk dyed a dark plum color. It went well with the cream-colored shirt he wore, and the ensemble was topped with a dark hide coat that fell to just past his knees and would billow as he walked. He'd bathed not long before, and his carrot-red hair was shining and smooth, held back with a few small braids that kept the shoulder-length mass out of his face.

The rest of his crew was similarly well-dressed. Not quite silk, but they wore clean cotton and linen shirts and they'd all been ordered to bathe well. The ship was spotless, everything neat and orderly, and the spirits had been stowed away. Over-drinking was not usually a problem on his ships, but he didn't want this client to think them drunks at all. Hence the careful attention to detail.

As he exited his quarters and gave one last look around the ship, he heard the quiet bump of a smaller vessel alongside his precious Vesper. The client was here, escorted by his first mate, Tamlin. Tamlin was a very large and intimidating man that looked rather like a bear. He was perhaps the only person in the crew that wasn't impeccably dressed, simply because it was difficult to find clothes that would look nice on the nearly seven-foot-tall man. He was as clean as the rest of them, but it didn't help that the man was always scowling furiously no matter his mood.

Kazimir pushed his scrambling crew aside and leaned down to help the client onto the desk. He reached out and snatched the man's hand as it sought purchase on the railing, and pulled with a strength that no human would possess. And indeed, as the client planted his feet on the boards it was revealed that that captain of this ship was an elf.

Kazimir's tall ears were studded with half a dozen piercings, a few glittering gems, and golden cuffs, and from the left one dangled a wicked-looking fang of some sort. His face was as pretty as a high-end whore's aside from the thin scar that sliced through the corner of his mouth, and his eyes were the syrupy golden-brown of honey, straight from the hive. That scarred mouth of his was grinning, showing off four impressively thick fangs that looked as wicked as the one dangling from his ear. He didn't look like a pirate king. He looked like he'd stepped out of a romantic novel about pirates.

"Welcome to my home, The Vesper. I hope you find her as beautiful as I do. My name is Kazimir, and I am the captain of this crew." His voice, while lightly accented with something southern, was smooth and deep, as deep as the waves his ship swayed on.